


You Don't Have to be What They Made You

by TrashcanKitty



Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, Winx Club
Genre: Angst, Change your Heart, Death of Characters, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Only magic here is the magic of Christmas, Other, Past Child Abuse, Political AU, The Obligatory Christmas Carol Story, Trauma, Valtor is definitely a Scrooge, Valtor is the governor of an unknown place, Winx Club Style, deaths of children, just trust me, magic of christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21898309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashcanKitty/pseuds/TrashcanKitty
Summary: After Governor Darkar dies and Valtor is forced to take over as governor, he thrives on the power he's given. Thrives. Even at the cost of so many innocent lives.But what do they matter? He got where he is by working for it. Just as anyone else should have to do.And no spoiled little girl barging into his office will change his mind.(Four ghostly visitors, however, might.)
Relationships: Faragonda/Hagen (Winx Club), Griffin/Valtor | Baltor (Winx Club), Marion/Oritel (Winx Club), Palladium (Winx Club)/Original Character(s), others, past Griffin/Valtor
Comments: 17
Kudos: 7





	1. In The Beginning

**1: In The Beginning**

Valtor felt his heart drop for a moment. Governor Darkar had died, his heart having failed him during his operation.

His wife, Mandragora, played her part as a grieving widow well. Tears and screams and full body shakes, but Valtor knew their relationship better than those who only saw them in public. They married purely for financial and political gain, nothing more or less.

It didn’t matter, though. As Lieutenant Governor, he’d have to step up and take over the roll of Governor. He had to become the man he had been groomed to be, meaning he couldn’t allow himself to get involved in any scandals involving the late governor and his widow.

“Are you sure we should be handling the votes now, Sir? Shouldn’t we allow time for our continuants to get used to your command?” his assistant, Avalon asked.

Avalon was a godsend, someone who truly knew the ins and outs of politics and warfare. He was a former soldier, always kept his posture precise and straight, his hair braided back efficiently. And immaculately dressed.

(Much like Valtor had always been taught. He needed to be well-dressed, well-versed, and well-mannered. Perfect and precise.)

He turned away from the news on the television, turning it off. “It’s what he’d have wanted, Avalon. We can’t let them get away with stealing medical supplies, even if they are surplus.”

Valtor noticed how Avalon’s face fell. “What is it? You think it’s fine to allow medical supplies to just wander off?” He asked.

“No, I don’t. But I don’t think it’s right to allow those who desperately need care to be denied it. Some of those medications could save lives…” Avalon kept his gaze on Valtor, looking him dead in the eye. “And if I may be so bold, Valtor, aren’t some of your _former_ friends behind the ‘thefts’?” He put the word ‘theft’ in quotations, tilting his head a bit.

Valtor glowered. Oritel and Marion Hannes were always an issue, even back when they were in college. Everything came _so_ easily to them, everything was handed down to them.

Titles, money, degrees. Love. Children. All of it. And they continuously squandered what they had trying to ‘make a difference’, as if the people they were ‘helping’ couldn’t easily help themselves.

He’d done it. He’d clawed his own way to be where he was.

 _And if he could do it, a monkey could._ He heard a long-forgotten voice taunting him, her voice just as cruel a cackle as it always had been.

“Those criminals aren’t my friends. I don’t care how much money they have, I don’t care how much time and effort they’ve put into those unsanctioned hospitals, taking any medical supplies, no matter the reason, is illegal.” He closed his eyes, mentally counting down to keep his temper from flaring.

“This bill will prohibit use of medical supplies outside of _registered_ hospital and hospice zones. No more loop-holes.”

Avalon’s face fell, but he shrugged, as if resigning himself to his work. “Fine… Then lets push the vote.”


	2. Two Years Later

**2: Two Years Later**

He kept his focus on the paperwork, trying to ignore the cold from the outside world. Snow was falling, harsh and fast on the ground, completely covering the city.

Try as he might, however, the cold did seem to seep in through the windows and deep into his bones.

_At least the chill doesn’t lie like warmth does. Warmth will lull you into security and rob you blind of your senses. The chill reminds you to be alert and aware._ He could hear his mother’s voice taunt.

She never allowed for heat to enter their home, not even in the chill of winter. It drove Valtor mad sometimes, having to rely on getting to his classes on time to be allowed to stay near a fireplace or heater. But scampering all the way to school during snowstorms and slippery ice was always difficult.

He frowned, shaking his head and pushing his hair back. Focus. He had to focus on the paperw-

“I have to talk to him!” A young voice yelled before it barged into his office.

“Young lady!” Avalon hissed, reaching for her. Valtor sighed, shaking his head.

He stood up, looking over to where his assistant had the young girl by the wrist, the girl trying to pull away. “What is the meaning of this?” He asked, glowering toward both intruders.

Avalon glared at the little girl. “This young lady believes she has business with you, sir. I tried to explain that you were busy, but she ran right passed me.”

Valtor turned to the young girl, taking her in. Small, perhaps eight or nine. Red hair and blue eyes. A scowled expression. “I do have business with you! You’re the governor, right?”

“Right.” Valtor nodded. (This would prove to be amusing.)

“Good. Then you can pardon my parents. My sister and I, we can’t have another Christmas without them.” Tears came to her blue eyes, both from anger and… Sadness?

“We’ve spent two Christmas’s without them and that’s too many. Don’t get me wrong, Vanessa and Mike, our foster parents, are awesome and all… But we need our parents. Please, please pardon them.”

Valtor frowned, tilting his head. (A pardon? For who? For what?) “And just… Who are your parents, little girl?”

The girl worried her lip for a moment, as if trying to fight back the tears already flowing. “Oritel and Marion Hannes… They… They’re good people and it’s not fair that they’re in jail. They didn’t do anything wrong!”

Oh hell. Why didn’t he see it before? Young Bloom certainly took after her mother. The red hair and bold personality.

This would definitely be amusing.

Valtor gave a smile, one he normally gave when he knew he’d be getting his way. “You must be sweet little Bloom… Marion was always so proud of you and Daphne…”

He walked over, getting where he was eye level with the girl. “Unfortunately, my hands are tied. Your parents broke the law, and they knew they broke the law. And now, there are _consequences_ for their actions. You do know about consequences, don’t you?”

Her eyes seemed to go wide, the tears falling faster now. Shock. And then with the knitting of her brows and the scowl on her face, anger took over.

“They were helping people!” Her whole body seemed to shake, her voice getting louder and louder as her fists clenched. “They were helping people and they got in trouble for no good reason!”

Her arguments fell on deaf ears as Valtor rose up. “I hate to break it to you, Bloom, but life is no fairy tale… Happily ever after is a hoax and life isn’t fair.” He glanced to the clock.

“Now, if you’re done with your temper tantrum, Avalon will call a cab for you so you can be home in time for your cartoons.” He taunted, going back toward his desk.

Bloom forced her way closer, avoiding Avalon’s hands. “But it’s Christmas Eve!” She pleaded. “Please… For Christmas?”

Valtor glanced up at her once more, this time his frown replacing his smile. “I’m afraid Christmas and Christmas magic are also a hoax. Grow up.”

The girl’s body deflated, defeat evident as she began to cry. Avalon shot him a look, but escorted her out, murmuring something to try to and settle the young child down.

The whole display had Valtor rolling his eyes.

Christmas? Bah humbug.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A tentative knock on his office door had him prying his eyes away from his computer. “Enter.”

Avalon, along with a few other staff members walked in. Bleary-eyed and partially red-faced, the group appeared as if they’d collapse at any moment. “Sir… It’s Christmas Eve.” Avalon began.

“I’m aware of the date. Why are you bringing it up?” Valtor asked before pausing, his wicked smile coming back. “Oh let me guess, you all want to go home and be with your families? Right?” He snorted. “As if there isn’t paperwork to do or policies to mandate.”

“Sir… It is the law to allow us at least a day off of work for Christmas. You know that.” Maeve pointed out.

“Not even the courthouse is open right now. All our work would be meaningless.” Glen spoke up.

A few others murmured in agreement and Valtor rolled his eyes.

“Very well. Take the night off and tomorrow too. But I expect you all to be ready to work thrice as hard when we come back for the 26th. Do I make myself clear?”

A chorus of ‘yes sir’ and ‘crystal clear’ rang through his staff as they rushed out his office door. Eager little bastards, ready to get home and slack off.

 _Unreliable little trolls_. A familiar voice echoed in his mind, a phrase he couldn’t seem to help but agree with.


	3. Pain Like Mine

**3: Pain Like Mine**

Valtor locked the door to his home; discarding his jacket, scarf, and hat on the coatrack nearby. The maid could clean up from the snow later, he wouldn’t worry about it.

He couldn’t worry about it. He had more important things to do. (A little more paperwork to finish and then he could head off to bed.)

The Governor walked into his study, flipping on the lights so he could see what he was working on.

It was an ornate room, one he’d dreamed of all his life. An intricate wooden desk with the names of past governors inscribed on it. A desk chair crafted from fine oak wood stood nearby. Bookshelves upon bookshelves lined the walls, and red velvet love seat sat near the window, a great place for a quick nap.

He took to his seat, pulling out his laptop and his files from his work bag.

While it was true no bills would pass or votes would be held this close to- _Bah Humbug_ \- Christmas, he could still get himself caught up. It just wouldn’t do for him to get left behind, especially not this close to election season.

Granted, his stomach was arguing with him, begging him to rest long enough to eat. His body wanted to be in contact with something warm and comforting after its battle in the snow.

Bleary and watery eyes tried to focus on the pages and pages of legalese, mind unable to comprehend a word.

(No. He wouldn’t give in. Mind over matter. Mind over matter.)

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Creak. Rattle. Creak. Rattle._

Valtor’s head shot up, his hands coming to rub against eyes. (Dammit he fell asleep. He didn’t need to sleep.)

A chill filled the air, shivers ran down his spine.

The lights of his study flickered, his laptop whirring in a pained noise. (What the devil could be going on?)

 _“Valtor… Oh Valtor…_ ” A familiar voice drawled from behind him.

(No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t…)

Valtor’s eyes widened, fear pumping through his body as he turned around.

Standing before him was the former Governor, Argulus Darkar.

His dark hair was braided back, skin ghastly white, his suit red as blood. Eyes beady and tired.

And the chains. His entire being was tied into chains latched onto the heaviest of weights. But he was dead! How could he be-

“You’re not real… This is a hallucination brought on by my poor habits of overworking myself and not eating.” Valtor tried to rationalize. There was no way in hell a dead man could be in his study.

No way.

Darkar laughed, that cruel choked off laugh he always had. “ _Oh, Valtor… I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m very much real._ ” The specter floated closer to him, the chill in the air intensifying.

“You’re dead. We buried you. I… I spoke at your funeral.” Valtor tried to rationalize. He had to cling to logic. He had to. Ghosts didn’t exist.

“ _Valtor. I’m as real as you are. Or at least, I am tonight._ ” Darkar gave that smile, another wave of shivers going down Valtor’s spine. “ _I’m here to bring a warning to you, my dear apprentice. A warning that I beg you to heed… Otherwise… You’ll be worse off than I am._ ” The ghost lifted his arms, the appendages shaking from the strain as the chains around his arms moved too.

Valtor took a deep breath, moving to stand before the spirit. “Assuming I believe you, Ghost of Darkar, then tell me what happened to you? What’s the deal with the chains?”

Darkar hung his head, shoulders slouching. (What had happened to his once dear friend? When did shame become him?)

“ _I am cursed, Valtor. Cursed to be tormented for all eternity. These chains are the physical representation of the torture my spirit must endure day in and day out. The Guardians of the Underworld feast upon my pain, just as I used to do to others._ ”

“And what did you do that was so terrible?” Valtor asked. The Darkar he knew wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but to be vile enough that the Underworld took an interest in his torture?

Bah humbug. It wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This was just a bad dream brought on by his hunger and lack of sleep.

“ _I used my authority to make life hell for others. I punished the poor for being poor. I took away funding for programs that could save lives. And I profited. I pocketed the money from the lobbyists. I chose money and greed and power over human life._ ”

“ _And now, now I suffer every day. And you, Valtor, will suffer worse than I do if you don’t change your ways._ ” Darkar moved closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Ice. It felt like ice was laying against him, a painful cold feeling. “ _Three more ghosts will appear tonight, Valtor. And they will pass judgement upon you. They will show you things you never wanted to see and will put your soul on fire._ ”

“ _But if you listen to them, if you heed their warnings, you will escape your fate. Otherwise, I’ll be seeing you in Hell._ ” Darkar whispered into his ear.

Then, just as suddenly as he’d appeared, he was gone.

The only evidence he’d even been around was the lingering cold on Valtor’s shoulder, the chill in the air, the lights finally settling down.

(Ghosts didn’t exist. Ghosts couldn’t exist.)

 _Bah humbug_. Valtor thought, collecting his thoughts.

A little dinner, a warm shower, and some sleep would do him worlds of good. He was having hunger and sleep deprivation-based hallucinations… That was all.

It’d be easy to fix. He just needed food and sleep.


	4. What's In A Past?

**4: What’s In A Past?**

Snuggling down into the sheets, he felt his body relax.

He’d a wonderful dinner, delivered from his favorite restaurant. A seafood platter with a Cesar salad and a baked potato. Simple, warm, and enough to fill him up to stop his hunger pain.

He’d taken a long and relaxing shower, using his body wash to help rub out the kinks and knots he could reach.

And now, laying in silk pajamas, curled into his warm bed, he was ready for a good night’s sleep.

(Honestly, he deserved it. He’d been working so hard he’d hallucinated ghosts. Who did that?)

Valtor felt himself drifting off to sleep, his body going limp and his breathing evening out.

Just as he desperately needed…

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“ _Wake up! It’s time to wake up! We mustn’t dawdle!_ ” An unfamiliar voice chastised him. Valtor frowned, opening one of his eyes.

A short man with long white hair stood before him. He was wrinkled, older, but he had a- dare Valtor think- kind demeanor. The man wore a long white robe and carried a golden staff of some sort.

The Governor shot up in his bed, grabbing his pillow as some sort of weapon. “Who the hell are you? How did you get into this house?” He seethed.

The man seemed unfazed by his behavior, merely shaking his head and laughing. “ _Relax, Dear Boy… I’m not going to hurt you._ ” There was mischief in the man’s eyes.

“Right. Who are you?” Valtor continued to question.

The man sighed, rolling his eyes.

(It was then Valtor noticed that his feet didn’t touch the ground and that a white aura seemed to encase him.)

“ _I am the Ghost of Christmas Past._ ” The man spoke, his voice clear and concise as if that explained anything.

Valtor glowered, standing up to his full height. “Listen here, I don’t know if this a bad dream or if I’m just hallucinating, but I don’t have time for this. I’m a very busy man and I need to sleep.”

The ghost(?) tsked, shaking his head. “ _I was told that you’d be difficult. But that’s fine, I’ve dealt with worse._ ” The ghost seemed to size him up. “ _Now, we’ve dawdled too long, and I’ve got so much to show you._ ”

The ghost moved fast, grabbing Valtor’s wrist. The man shivered; the touch cold to the touch on his skin.

“Unhand me!” Valtor growled, trying to pry his hand away.

“ _Not at this height, you’d get hurt._ ” The spirit teased, laughing.

What the-

Valtor swore, noticing the change.

Cold air and snow flew passed him; his home long gone. Now they were in the open air, flying. (Flying?!)

“Whe- Where are we going?”

The ghost chuckled. “ _To the past, of course._ ”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They landed in front of a looming tower of a home. Depilated and falling apart. Christmas lights and a single tiny Christmas tree lingered on the outside of it.

There was a sign on the door, “Ancestral Home For Wayward Boys”.

“ _Do you recognize this place?_ ” The ghost asked, walking up to stand beside Valtor. The governor gave a slow nod, feelings he’d long forgotten about starting to rise inside of him.

“I do… This was where I spent my-my childhood. Most of it anyway…” Nostalgia and pain hit him hard, the urge to tear up strong.

The ghost hummed, starting into the building. Valtor followed closely behind him, his breath quickly catching in his throat.

A single boy was on his own, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He was in his best clothes, the only thing truly _clean_ that he had. A little suit and tie. Blonde hair slicked back just right.

He was waiting, waiting for something he knew would never come.

A family. A family of his own.

(He’d had a few come to look at him, even had one let him stay the night… But no one wanted the child of a man who’d killed his wife. No one wanted a child who had such a temper and was uncontrollable. No one wanted him.)

“ _It’s sad isn’t it? Wanting a family for Christmas and never receiving it?_ ” The ghost asked. The question stung, but it was genuine.

Valtor swallowed, trying to force his emotions in check. “I got a family… Just not the best one. But one I deserved.” He bit his lip, the memories welling up. “After all, I was such a horrible child.”

“ _You were a child who didn’t know right and wrong. And no one took the time to teach you._ ” The ghost told him. “ _And those who took you in treated you poorly. Your emotional development was so stunted._ ”

Valtor glowered to the spirit. “And what the hell do you know?!”

“ _I know enough._ ” The ghost raised his staff, the gem at it’s top glowing. The Home changed into a different scene. Another one that was all-too familiar…

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A brick townhouse that housed a well-to-do family. A trio of sisters who were inseparable. And older. And getting older by the day.

They didn’t want to leave their fortune to someone they didn’t know, so they picked a child, the only one left at the Home, and brought him to live with them.

Lessons started immediately, punishments were cruel and harsh.

No talking unless spoken to. Do not make eye contact unless you have to. No talking back. Always reign in your emotions.

Be the best, no matter the cost. _Without us, you’re worthless!_

Study harder. Be better. _Why did Oritel beat you out for Valedictorian?_

_You’ll be a politician. A lawyer. You’ll be SOMEBODY._

Sit up straight. Don’t slouch. No friends, your studies are more important. You don’t need friends.

All of those lessons played out for him in fast-forward, all at the hand of the ghost. “ _Tell me, how does that child deserve any of this?_ ” He asked after one particularly bad punishment.

It was Christmas Vacation, his last one of his high school career. His report card had come in, coupled with an acceptance letter to a university not approved by his mother and her sisters.

He’d had a B in a math class and had expressed interest in music. Classical music.

They’d be so angry with him. He could still feel the rice digging into his knees from being forced to kneel and beg forgiveness.

“Worthless. We took you in and this is how you repay us?!”

“We’re trying to mold you into someone worth wasting the air we breathe! And yet here you are, nothing but a worthless child!”

“We should have let the state keep you! Or better yet, sent you to that juvenile home.”

“We were trying to save you from being a nobody like your father! How naïve we were.”

All of their comments dug into his skin, rougher than the rice dug into his knees. Welts formed on his back as Belladonna retrieved ‘The Belt’, making him recite different algebraic expressions.

She’d be damned if he didn’t get into her alma mater. She’d be damned if he ended up common and stupid. Worthless.

Adult Valtor couldn’t help himself. He rushed in between Belladonna and his teenaged self, trying to protect him from the blows.

But the belt went through him, still hitting its mark. The ghost walked up to him, a saddened expression on his face. “ _They can’t see or hear you, Valtor. You do not exist here._ ”

Valtor swore, his body shaking.

Each strike against his younger self sent pains up his own body, his own knees aching from the rice. “Spirit… No more. I can’t take any more of this.”

The spirit gave a slow nod, extending his hand toward Valtor’s. “ _Come along. We have more stops to make._ ”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This time the scene unfolding before him wasn’t truly unwelcome.

It was a Christmas party that his university had put on, and his dear friend and rival, Oritel Hannes, had forced him to go.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Dancing and food and atmosphere. It’ll be so much better than those stupid law books.” Oritel had said.

Valtor had rolled his eyes. “We do have our exams coming up, Oritel… We can’t afford to-”

“Come on. It’s just one night. One single night.”

The scene changed from their dorm to the party.

Christmas lights twinkled from the walls and the tree, the food smelled absolutely delicious.

And the music was lovely, quaint and not overpowering, but definitely enough to put one in the spirit.

“ _Tell me, do you know what’s so important about this party?_ ” The spirit asked, a teasing smile on his face.

Valtor felt his face flush as he noticed what the spirit was looking at.

Griffin.

She’d come from the Fine Arts department, a literature major with an argumentative attitude that could put even the best lawyer to shame.

Beautiful. Sure of herself.

Long purple hair and shining amber eyes.

His heart ached to see her again, especially after all these years… “Griffin.”

“ _You met her here. A friend of Marion’s. Right?_ ”

Valtor nodded, watching as his younger self tried his best to charm her, the woman having none of it. (Though she laughed and smiled, challenging him to up his game. To be real with her.)

And he had been.

She was the only one who knew what his homelife had truly been like. The only one who’d seen the scars his ‘family’s _corrective_ measures had left on him. The only one to love him as he was and to show him just who he could be.

He’d vowed to marry her, had even proposed and began the planning…

“She broke my heart.”

The ghost tsked. “ _You broke hers first. Or have you forgotten?_ ” He waved his hand, the scene changing again.

Valtor was working hard on a deposition for his new boss at the law firm he was working at.

His pen scribbled and notes filled the pages of his notebook. His entire focus was on that deposition.

Until the door opened, ever so slowly, and the sound of stifled cries could be heard. His younger self glanced up, frowning toward the door.

“What are you crying about?” He asked. “Did something happen, are you hurt?” That was the only rational reason to be crying. The only reason he could see the strong woman crying.

She looked at him, shock and hurt crossing over her delicate features. “Where were you?” A whispered question.

“Here… Why? What happened?” Now he was concerned. Had someone hurt her? Did she get mugged? They did live in a dangerous part of the town…

Valtor walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Griffin, what happened?”

She just shook her head, pulling away from him as if his touch burned her. “The funeral was today.” Dammit. Dammit.

 _That was today._ Her mother had passed away in the last week, and Griffin and her brother had been poring over the details for the funeral.

Theodora Sylvane was quite the woman. An incredible teacher who inspired her students, a loving wife, and an encouraging mother. (She’d even made Valtor feel welcomed and loved after they’d met only once.)

“Griffin… I’m so sorry… But this deposition-”

“I needed you!” She yelled out. Valtor took a step back, eyes widened. She’d never been like that with him…

“I needed you to be there for me. Just this once. But you chose work instead?”

Valtor glowered. “I’m doing this for us. If I can get this together, if I can prove myself to be an irreplaceable member, we can afford a better apartment. Maybe even a house. Our own home.”

Griffin’s brows knitted together, a frown overcoming her lips. (Normally he loved the pouty lip, but not when it like this.)

“You’re always working, Valtor.” She paused, her expression softening as the tears flowed freely. “It’ll always be this way, won’t it? No time for anyone but the firm. Or the next firm. Or your political office, when you’re eligible to run.”

Valtor glared. “I’m trying to ensure we have a comfortable life, Griffin. Not like we can do that with a teacher’s salary, now can we? It didn’t work well with your parents.”

A low blow. A very low blow.

Griffin turned her back to him, setting something small on the side table. Her ring. “And just what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“The hell you are. We’re not done talking about this.” His anger had flared. Griffin turned to him, shaking her head.

“I am.” And with that, she’d headed into what was once their bedroom and started to pack.

“Where will you go?”

“My brother’s. He and his boyfriend have a spare bed.”

“Oh come on. It’s one spat.”

“This is just one of many.”

“You can’t bring that up! That was the past!”

“I’m just pointing out a pattern, Valtor.” A slap to the face to hear a voice that once said his name with such reverence to say it with… Such a blank feeling.

“Spirit…”

“ _You weren’t there for her. You broke her heart not coming to the funeral, not standing by her side. You taunted her for her job, knowing damn well it’s a passion of hers to teach and watch her students grow._ ”

He tsked. “ _But I think what hurt most happened after… When she had to experience a miscarriage alone._ ”

Valtor felt the air leave his lungs, as if he’d been punched. “What…? She was…? Pregnant? She never told me…?”

 _“She didn’t know until she got sick. Her brother took her to the ER and… It came out that she’d miscarried. She’d thought of calling you, she thought of seeking you out to comfort her, but she thought better of it._ ”

Valtor frowned. “Why? Why wouldn’t she-”

“ _You weren’t there for her when she had to bury her mother and you belittled her and her career choices. Her passions. And not even for the first time. You’d done that so often in your relationship. Why would she seek out comfort from you?_ ”

His body felt numb, his jaw and fists unclenching.

The ghost was right… He treated her horribly, had shoved her aside. And for what? A raise? A chance to prove himself? As if he hadn’t already been with the top law firm?

“Spirit… I can’t bear anymore… Take me home.” A plea for mercy. He wiped at his eyes, trying to fight the tears.

How could he have been so cruel?

The Spirit raised his hands, the scenery changing back into his bedroom. His present bedroom.

And the ghost was gone. Gone in a puff of smoke. Just like that.

Valtor’s arms wrapped around himself, the tears falling freely now that he didn’t have an audience.

_It couldn’t be real… But it felt real. It felt real. It looked real. And damn if his heart didn’t ache…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saladin is the Ghost of Christmas Past. (Don't ask why, he just is.)


	5. Here and Now

**5: Here and Now**

Valtor tried again to sleep, praying it was all just a bad dream. (It had to be a bad dream, spirits and ghosts weren’t real. They couldn’t be.)

He found himself dozing, his body finally relaxing just enough to allow him to sleep. Peaceful, soft dre-

Movement downstairs had Valtor raising up, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge. Someone was in the house. Someone had broken in.

He reached and grabbed for the pistol he kept hidden under his bed, taking his time to head downstairs.

Quietly, he crept into the kitchen, raising his weapon. “Any sudden movements and I’ll shoot.” He warned the other person.

She-it was a woman, had to be with her silhouette- let out a hearty laugh, turning to face him.

The woman had an ethereal aura around her. She had blue colored skin, hair in an updo. And wings? Wings? (And she appeared to have no clothes, but he couldn’t make any distinguishing features other than her curves.)

“ _You can try to shoot me, but I’m afraid you’ll only frighten your staff and your neighbors._ ” She laughed.

She was almost as tall as him, her hips swaying a bit as she walked over toward him. “ _Be a good boy, put the gun down._ ” She commanded.

Valtor glowered, unmoving. “Not until you tell me who you are.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “ _I am the Ghost of Christmas Present. And-”_

“And you’re here to show me the error of my ways to try and save my soul?” Valtor taunted, setting the gun down and crossing his arms. “I’ve been getting that quite often tonight. Gotta say, I’m not interested.”

Her lips curved into a smile, mirth dancing in her eyes. “ _It’s so cute that you think you have a choice. Mortals are so adorable._ ” She placed a hand on his, the chill sinking into his skin.

“And just where do you plan on taking me?”

“ _Oh… Just a few places… Let’s start with the Community Center._ ”

“You mean the future parking lot for the new mall?” Valtor asked, bemused. The Community Center that Oritel and Marion had helped erect was a joke. It wasn’t registered, it wasn’t recognized, and it was to be shut down. Soon.

“ _I mean the Community Center that has done so much good for people, and yet you wish to close it down due to some vendetta._ ”

Vendetta?

“I don’t have any vendettas.”

“ _But you do. You’re jealous of Oritel and Marion, and because they were behind the medical surplus being used to help low income families, you created that new policy._ ”

“I did what Darkar would have wanted.”

“ _You hurt innocent people. Your jealousy got the better of you. Admit it._ ”

Valtor glowered. He wasn’t jealous of Marion or Oritel. He had no need to be.

Sure, they were both born into money. And yes, they had seemed to have everything handed down to them. They had each other, they had love, two beautiful girls…

“I only did what I had to do.”

“ _I’m sure you did._ ” The ghost frowned, clasping harder on his hand. “ _We’re wasting time. It’s time to be on our way._ ”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The building that served as the Community Center had once been a home owned by Marion’s family. It was converted to have a basketball gym, a swimming pool, a large cafeteria, bedrooms, an infirmary, and a makeshift library.

Christmas lights donned the walls, and families were together singing carols.

Parents looked worn out and heartbroken, children were laughing and playing, oblivious to their reality.

“These families are homeless, aren’t they?” He asked.

“ _They are. This center is the only place willing to take them and their children, the only place with guaranteed safety. And tomorrow they’ll have to clear out._ ”

Valtor felt something tug at his heart when he noticed someone bringing in plates. “Merry Christmas!” Came the too-jolly cheer.

Faragonda. She’d been a med-student and a friend of Griffin’s.

And here she was, bringing in plates of food for the homeless families.

She wasn’t alone, either. Her husband was carrying in a few dishes himself, followed by a few of Marion’s socialite friends. Luna and Radius, Erendor and Samara.

The air flushed out of his lungs when he saw the next dishes coming into the building, carried by Griffin and her brother and his husband.

The children cheered and rushed up to her, eager for the sweets she tended to bake. (He’d loved her peanut butter cookies, himself…)

She’d changed over the years, her hair shorter and worn in a bun. She’d ditched her glasses.

And Salvador and Palladium were still ridiculously in love. (And now trailed by a cute little girl in pigtails, calling after her ‘Daddy’ and ‘Papa’.)

There were no gifts under the tree, but the families still tried to act excited for their children, telling stories of Santa and a better life. Never forgetting to remind their children that they should eat their greens before starting on the sweets.

(Trying to keep everything normal.)

“How are they not panicking?”

“ _They are. Each of those parents is concerned how they’ll break it to their children that they have to leave. That they have to find another new place. That there will be no presents under the tree and no home to call their own._ ”

Valtor swallowed. “And the others?”

“ _Are trying to keep the hope alive. Oritel and Marion’s friends are doing their best. They’ve lobbied for the Center to remain open, but you wouldn’t hear of it. And neither would your staff._ ”

And if that didn’t hit him hard, the next bit would.

Faragonda was pulling Griffin away from the others, wanting to talk. “Are you sure we can’t talk to him?”

“He wouldn’t listen then, he won’t listen now.” Griffin bit her lip, closing her eyes. “He’ll never change, Faragonda… The Center will close.”

Faragonda swore, wrapping her arms around herself. “But these kids… Their parents…”

“It won’t sway him… He gave his heart to his work a long time ago.” Griffin gave sad smile. “I’m just lucky I figured that out before… Before I married him.”

The brunette pulled her in for a hug. “Just keep hoping for a miracle…”

Valtor shook his head. “No more. I can’t see any more of this.”

The ghost hummed, giving him a teasing smile. “ _Okay then… On to the next stop._ ” Her wings fluttered fast, lights glistening off them as the scene changed once more.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was an unknown house in a suburban area.

Big enough for a small family, decorated in lights and snowmen in the yard. A familiar little red headed girl trudged up the stairs.

“What’s this?”

“ _The Peters’ household. Mike and Vanessa Peters took in Daphne and Bloom after their parents’ trial. Vanessa is Marion’s cousin…_ ”

Shit. This family.

He peered into the window, his breath catching in his throat.

Mike and Vanessa were overjoyed that Bloom had made it back to them safely, their dinner left abandoned on the dining room table.

Such a commotion over one little girl…

Footsteps came down the stairs, another young girl coming into the picture.

Daphne. She was twelve, perhaps thirteen, and sickly. Her skin was far too pale, her blonde hair lifeless. She moved slowly, as if in pain, but the smile on her face…

She hugged tightly to Bloom, murmuring something to her sister.

“What’s wrong with Daphne?”

“ _She needs a transplant… But with her parents’ record and the hospitals worried about assisting anyone with the last name Hannes… It’ll be a miracle if she gets one in time._ ”

Valtor paled. “She’s dying?”

“ _Yes. And quickly._ ”

“Which is why… Bloom wanted her parents so desperately…?” And he’d thought she was being a brat, someone who just wanted things to be her way.

 _“She wanted to be sure to have at least one more full Christmas with her family… But it appears that’ll never happen._ ”

Dammit. Dammit all.

He felt his knees buckle, the tears welling in his eyes. His heart sunk, his body trembling. “No more… No more.” He begged.

“ _As you wish._ ”

Everything disappeared in a puff of smoke. All that remained was his bedroom.

Valtor stayed on his knees, crying for the children at the center, for Daphne and Bloom. _Shut up! Stop this nonsense! Don’t soften up now!_ He could hear Belladonna’s voice berating him.

He could feel rice digging into his knees, the cold seeping into his bones. Welts forming on his back.

But still he cried. How could he be so blind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arcadia, the first fairy, is the Ghost of Christmas Present


	6. Say Goodbye

**6: Say Goodbye**

He laid in bed, waiting.

There was no way he could sleep, not now, not after all he’d seen already. So he lied awake, waiting for the final spirit to arrive.

It would have to be the Ghost of Christmas Future, the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. At least, if they were to follow in the footsteps of the last two ghosts; Present and Past.

The grandfather clock ticked away, and Valtor found himself getting antsy.

(What if the final ghost had already deemed him too far gone? What if there wasn’t a final visit?)

Fear gripped him, holding him to his own bed. He dared not move, dared not go seeking out the spirit. And yet, he didn’t know if he could just wait either…

 _Fwoosh_.

The bedroom windows flung themselves open, the blizzardy winds blowing snow and ice into his bedroom, freezing him in place.

“Spirit?!” He asked, yelling to be heard above the winds.

A strange creature stood before him, it’s face scrunched into a scowl.

Tall and reddish in color. Large draconic wings. Clawed hands and feet. Glowing red eyes. (A demon? Was it a demon?)

“Are… You the Spirit of Christmas Future?” Valtor found himself asking again, forcing himself to stand despite the blustering winds.

The creature gave a solemn nod, its wings stretching out as the snow spiraled around them. Faster and faster until Valtor’s bedroom was no more…

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The streets were decorated with Christmas decorations, lights flickering off of houses and businesses.

So far, so good. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Not until-

“Did you hear the news? He’s finally croaked.” A familiar cocky voice laughed. Ogron. And he was talking to his former fraternity brothers; Dumon, Anagan, and Gantlos.

“Took him long enough. How many people do you think’ll actually miss him?”

“That depends, how much did he pay them?” They all laughed, shaking their heads and holding to their stomachs. As if they’d told the best joke ever.

“Who are they talking so crudely about?” Valtor asked, turning to his companion.

The spirit just gave him a look, tilting his head. _Oh_.

“I see…” Valtor swallowed, watching as the quartet continued to make their horrible jokes, taunting him even while he was in the grave.

“Is… this all you wished to show me?” The creature shook its head, its wings stretching again as the snow fell around them.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Community Center had been replaced by a parking lot, just as planned. People were rushing about, trying to enter the mall for last minute gifts or groceries.

Valtor couldn’t help but notice what the customer didn’t. A trio of children, huddled together in the very corner of the lot, trying to stay warm despite wearing raggedy clothes and having a less than proper heat source.

One of them, a little brown-haired girl, sneezed and coughed, her skin paler than the snow around them. The one who appeared to be the eldest child held her closer, whispering that they’ll be okay soon enough.

The boy in the group crept off, doing his best to pick the pockets of those heading into the mall.

It was to no avail, however, as the boy ended up shot and killed in front of his sisters by one the police officers on duty.

The girls cried, rushing to try and help their brother, only to be torn away from and each other.

“All of this… Because of a mall?” He shook his head. “No… This… This can’t be right… It’s supposed to be able to bring in jobs and, and options for people… Not this.”

“ _The road to hell is paved by good intentions._ ” The spirit spoke for the first time, it’s voice gravelly and rough. Deep.

Valtor wrapped his arms around himself. “It can’t be… It just… It can’t…” He turned to the spirit. “No more.”

The spirit shrugged, the wings extending once again.

This time they were at a graveyard, standing before a headstone that seemed too small to be real. “No.” Valtor whispered, shutting his eyes tightly.

He didn’t want to see it. He couldn’t bear to see the name.

But he knew he had to.

Valtor gathered his strength to reopen his eyes, moving to get a look at the headstone. _Daphne Winifred Hannes. A beloved daughter and older sister._

He wanted to cry out. According the dates, she’d just turned sixteen. “Spirit… This can’t be so… She was so young, so full of life.”

The spirit growled, turning to him. “ _Life isn’t fair, is it?_ ” His own words thrown back at him. Dammit it all.

And of course, the scene got worse.

Young Bloom, now about 12, walked up to the headstone, a bouquet of flowers in her hand. Marigolds.

Vanessa and Mike were at the sidewalk, waiting for her to say what she needed to say to her sister.

Bloom, more grown and more eloquent, began to tell her sister about her day. How Christmas just wasn’t the same. How she wished she had her sister around to rely on. About her new bunny that she’d named Kiko.

All with tears streaming down her face and voice shaking from the cold and from her sadness.

“Spirit… Please… Please… Isn’t this enough?” Valtor found himself begging, turning to the creature.

The spirit grabbed him with its cold, clawed hand, and dragged him to the other end of the graveyard.

His own headstone.

It barely even had his name. None of his accolades. And no mourners. No one cared for him because he’d cared for no one.

“Spirit… Spirit… I beg you… This doesn’t have to be the way things end. I can change. I change it!” Valtor cried out, turning to the creature. He got to his knees, holding to its hand. “Give me another chance. Give me just one more chance.”

The creature glowered, its clawed hand reaching for him. He tensed up, closing his eyes.

Anything the spirit did to him, he would deserve it. Any torment, any form of torture… Valtor deserved to be tormented for everything he’d done to those around him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valtor's Demon side is the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. (I just thought that'd be fun.)


	7. Christmas Miracles

**7: Christmas Miracles**

Valtor awoke with a start, his alarm ringing and the windows rattling open.

He jumped out of bed, panic in his veins as he checked the date and time. Eight am, Christmas morning.

He hadn’t missed it. He still had time!

Valtor grabbed his phone, dialing a number he knew all-too well. “I know it’s Christmas Day, but… I need to cash in on that favor you owe me.”

He had to make it right. For all of them. For his soul. For the children. For Marion and Oritel and Daphne and Bloom.

For Griffin.

He had to make it right.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Valtor watched it unfold from his hiding place in the shadows. He didn’t want his ‘act of generosity’ to be known or mocked. He didn’t want his name attached.

He simply wanted to watch as the Hannes couple walked out of the courthouse, hand-in-hand, with their daughters at their sides. Picture perfect, genuine happiness.

Little Bloom and Daphne seemed to fawn over their parents being released, and Oritel and Marion clung so tightly to their daughters.

The best gift he could have given. (The second best. He was off to deliver the real gift.) “Driver, to the Center.”

“Yes, Mr. Governor.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He stepped out of the car, the papers in his hands. Griffin, of course, had been the one to greet him.

She slapped him, hard, across the face. Amber eyes were enlightened with anger, her face contorted into a scowl. “You have a lot of nerve showing your face here.” She seethed.

Faragonda and Hagen came out quickly, both taking a hold of Griffin’s arms to prevent her from hitting him again.

Valtor raised his free hand in surrender. “I come bearing a peace offering… If you’ll have it.”

“And just what could you have to offer us?” Faragonda shot at him, Hagen giving his wife a stern look.

“This.” He handed the papers off to Faragonda, slow and steady so as not to incur wrath from Hagen.

(He could fight, he’d handled himself well in fights before, but Hagen… Hagen was well outside his weight class.)

Faragonda gaped, her eyes lighting up and tears of joy streaming down. “Are you serious…? Is this a joke?”

“Let me see that.” Griffin took the papers, her own face falling into disbelief. “Valtor…?”

“The Center is clearly recognized as a proper shelter… Just promise to keep up to date with health codes and we’re good to go.” Valtor tipped his hat, trying to make them realize how genuine he was being.

“And… Because no child should have to feel left out at Christmas, I have a few… Gifts in the trunk… If you’d like to get Salvador and Palladium to help you unload.” Valtor turned the statement to Hagen.

The construction worker gave a look to Faragonda, the nurse giving an enthusiastic nod, gesturing toward the Center.

Salvador and Palladium made their way out, both giving glares toward Valtor until Hagen filled them in.

(Which led to more disbelief, but silence, as the men unloaded the toys and games from the car and into the Center. Valtor felt his heart swell when he heard the children laughing and cheering. Squeals of excitement pouring out from the building.)

Griffin gave him a look, still unsure of him. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Valtor Bellan?”

Valtor looked down, afraid to meet her eyes. “Let’s just say I had an awakening… One I should have had years ago…” He chanced a glance to her face, seeing the shine back in her eyes. “Anyway, I should go. I’m certain when Oritel and Marion get here, they’ll not want me anywhere near this place.”

“Marion and Oritel are out?” Griffin asked, eyes wide. Valtor felt himself flush.

“Christmas miracles… Am I right?” He swallowed, hastily handing her a piece of paper. “I have no right to ask this of you, and I don’t expect to ever hear from you, but if you ever need me… I’m just a call away.”

And with that, he turned on his heels and went back to his car, motioning for his driver to head back to his home. (Paperwork wouldn’t fill out itself.)

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally. The last page had been filed away. He was free. Free from the paperwork.

Valtor frowned. Now what would he do with his time? He could see if there were others who truly needed help… (Or would that be too much too soon? How did the spirits prefer for changes of heart to go?)

His phone rang, and without thinking he answered. “Hello?”

“Hello.” His heart sped up. Griffin? Why?

“I… I honestly didn’t think I’d hear from you.” Valtor admitted, seeing no point in lying or playing around. That was what screwed him over the first time.

“Trust me, this wasn’t my idea.” Griffin had that tone in her voice, the one where she was trying to be purely business. “Oritel, Marion, and Faragonda wanted me to invite you to the Center’s official Christmas party. On the condition you bring as much hot chocolate and berry tarts as you can.”

Valtor grinned. “Are they sure?” (Are you sure?)

“Come. Don’t come. It’s up to you. But I’d rather not have a bunch of disappointed children on my hands.” (Yes, I’m sure you idiot.)

“I’ll be there soon.” He hung up, grabbing for his coat.

Perhaps he really wasn’t too late after all.


End file.
